DISCARDED

They walk aimlessly, lost in twilight streets, their faces seasick with loneliness.  The street lamps create shadows for their miserable zombie bodies and the mist clings to their clothes.  It's worse than death, this feeling of complete emptiness, darkness and hopelessness.  It is surely too painful to be contained inside a body and yet it is.

Footsteps plod, eyes are downcast, but they don't see each other as they walk by.  These individuals are perfectly wrapped up in their misery.  As they wander the streets around the old cathedral, thoughts echo in their minds and become whispers on the night air.

I can't go home to her yet
He doesn't want me anymore
I am not young.  It is too late to start again
I have not spoken to a single human being all day, not a single human being.  I blame those automated machines they've put in the supermarket ...

And so, they pass each other without looking up, lost in reflection, trapped in bubbles and unable to see past the dragging pain inside.  The rejected.  The discarded.